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Dead Dead The Bitch Is Dead

Finally Thatcher has gone to hell


Normally I never blog or use any password on WiFi but for this one occasion I had to make an exception. At last, after 87 years of spreading her destructive malevolence upon the face of the earth, the piece of filth that was Margret Thatcher is no more. It is time for all good people to dance and make merry in the streets to mark this most joyous of days. I feel privileged to have lived long enough to see it.

To mark the occasion I have started a little song, to be song to the tune of “The witch is dead” from The Wizard of Oz

The Bitch is dead

Dead dead the bitch is dead

Which old bitch

The stupid bitch

Dead dead the stupid bitch is dead

Dead dead the bitch is dead

Howd she die

No one said

But I hope a house fell on her head

Dead dead the stupid bitch is dead


Please feel free to create more verses and sing them with joy and happiness


If you like this image or any other in this blog, you can vote for it for the monthly, Top Of The Click Pops by clicking or right clicking on it. The top five are posted at or near the beginning of every month, for the previous months result.

This blog is not as it usually is. For more details visit this post This Blog Is On Tick Over.

I Just Can’t Right Now

I just can’t blog, that is. Sorry to those of you that were expecting the Blog Stuff Roundup but I just have not been getting round the other blogs enough to put one together properly. As reported in this post Happy New Year – And Christmas Used To Start In September, my mother is terminally ill and was readmitted to Hospital yesterday. I spent most of the wee hours packing a bag, in case I had to return to the UK again and generally worrying and not sleeping. Emotionally and mentally I feel a bit screwed right now and just cannot concentrate enough to blog properly. I have two nearly finished posts, that were originally meant to have been posted between Christmas and New Year, that I will finish and schedule in for posting on Tuesday and Thursday, after that I will have to see how the situation and my own state of mind are for continuing this blog, in the short term future.

Normal posting will resume as soon as I have sorted my life out


Happy New Year – And Christmas Used To Start In September

Sorry for my prolonged absence from this blog and thank you to those of you that left the kind comments on earlier posts while I was away. Firstly I would like to wish all the readers here a…

happy 2013 bottom

Original image blatantly stolen from Spanking Blogg

And now something that is in reply to a request from Morningstar at The Journey. It is not spanking related, there are no illustrations and my literacy condition will make sure that the grammar and punctuation are terrible. So for the two or three of you who are now left here is a little recollection from times gone bye.

When Christmas used to start in September

It was back in the 1990’s that I needed to go to a friends house to drop off some camera equipment. It was a beautiful Sunday in the first weekend of September and I had decided to walk to my destination. I was happy and usually am during this weekend of the year as it holds fond memories from my childhood and youth.

Back in the 1970’s and 80’s, the first weekend in September or sometimes the last in August was when the family, young and old, descended on my parents house for the yearly ceremony of the making of the Christmas Cake. The largest mixing bowl and cake tin were dug out for their once a year use and all of the measuring and mixing was done by hand, with no mechanical help, as this might bring bad luck to the December celebrations. As the long winded mixing took place, any children in the house would be ushered into the front room, with my father, to help craft some handmade Christmas decorations (it took weeks to vacuum all of the glitter out of the carpet). Whilst all the adults sat in the kitchen topping, tailing and peeling a huge bag of small onions and throwing them into large jars ready for my mother’s special, spicy pickling mixture (that my brother in law blamed as the cause of his ulcers).  Enough onions would be pickled for the whole year but they had to sit until Christmas before they were deemed properly pickled. Nips of Whiskey and other drinks would compensate the peelers for their time and tears and the banter would be light hearted and fun. Eventually The Cake would be ready and all the house would gather to give the mixture three stirs each, for good luck, before it was put in the large cake tin and put in to bake. Between the baking and Christmas, the cake would be doused three times a week with three spoonfuls of Brandy so that it matured properly for the big day. The vinegar and spices would be put in the onion jars and they would be sealed for their maturation period. A tea of sandwiches and cakes would be enjoyed by young and old before people started to drift away home. It was a nice day and personal to our family, with no commercialism or outside pressures to determine how we enjoyed the day and is something that I will remember for the rest of my life.

Back to the 1990’s. I arrived at my friend’s house and when the door was opened found chaos and bedlam. His four, usually very well behaved, children were in very bad moods and determined to upset their parents in any way that they could. My friend looked decidedly unhappy and his poor wife looked like she was on the point of breakdown. Enquiring into the reason for the situation my friend informed me that the kids were always like this on the last weekend of the long Summer holidays, as were many children facing the return to school and then asked me. Wasn’t it like this, on this weekend, in my house when I was a child? I had to admit to him that it was not and I had to admit to myself that sometimes it can take decades to realize what good parents you have.


During a medical procedure that my mother had over the holidays, to clear fluids from her liver and pancreas, a large cancer was found in her pancreas. At 82 the treatments for such a cancer would be likely to kill my mother before the cancer could be cured and so her condition was pronounced terminal. It is unlikely that she will see the end of 2013 and so I will be travelling back to the UK as often as I can to spend time with her and help with her care ( I am going back on Sunday). This will effect the already limited time I have to spend on this blog and posting will be erratic at times. I apologize for this in advance.


A Bit Bare Bones I’m Afraid, Due To Technical Difficulties

My Mouse Is Dying



I’m awfully sorry not to have a real post for you today but my computer laser mouse has decided to go all funny. It takes some convincing to get the pointy thing, on the screen, to go where I want it and then most times it decides to shoot off to the edge of the screen (without moving the mouse) before I can click on anything. As a consequence every little computer task is taking ages to perform. It is impossible for me to get to a shop for a new mouse until the weekend. I will try to do the Thought For The Week on Friday but if the mouse totally dies I will not be able to post until Saturday.


Normal posting to resume as soon as is possible


>Taking A Few Days Off, For The Memory Of A Friend

>This is scheduled to show on Wednesday 12th but I am writing this on the evening of the 11th. After taking a turn for the worst, over the last few days, my old Lurcher (Dog) was no longer able to walk and the resurgence of an old problem in his one eye rendered him almost totally blind. Today (Tuesday) the Vet said that there was nothing left to try and the old hound was in a lot of misery and discomfort. So I had to make that decision, that I hoped I would never have to make and my old friend is no longer with us. Living alone, with no family nearby and having most of my friends in the expat community, that tends to be a group that very often moves on after a time, I may be accused of making too big of an emotional investment in my pet, to which I would have to plead guilty. I am feeling very gutted right now and have decided to stop blogging for a few days, while I sort my head out. There are no hiatus posts scheduled but I should be back soon, just need a little space right now. I don’t know if I will be getting around the other blogs much or not, I will see.

Just a scruffy old one eyed Lurcher

Who was a better person than most people that I know


>My School Days Through The Eyes Of One Of My Teachers – A Hiatus Repost


This was my favorite web find ever and one of those posts that I really enjoyed doing. It was originally posted on The Eigth of January 2009.

Surfing the web I found a real gold nugget, the short memoir of a teacher who taught at my Comprehensive (High) school at the same time I was there. Below are some extracts from her writings. I have added some notes of my own, my notes are in italics and green. Some names have been deleted to protect both the innocent and my own identity, although the names of those I regard as guilty remain.

Anne ***** looks back over 29
years of teaching.

L. P. Hartley said that the past is
another country; looking back,
Britain in 1979 seems like another
world. The Tory government led by
Mrs Thatcher had come to power in
May of that year, while Lord
Mountbatten was assassinated by the
IRA in August. Music was dominated by Punk Rock. There were only three TV channels:
BBC1, BBC2 and ITV, satellite TV was still many years in the future. If you wanted to make a
telephone call away from home you had to find a red phone box – that was the only kind of
“mobile phone” available! As for computers: well, we saw them in Star Trek and never dreamed
of the internet or email. I had just bought my first car for the huge sum of £250, and could fill
the tank with petrol for £5.

Summers were hotter, Winters were colder, crisps (chips) were 3 pence a bag and the Tories had made sure that all of our dads were unemployed. Ahh! the good old days.

I arrived at ********** Comprehensive School, as it was then called, early in September 1979. I
was very young, very excited: and very scared!

I was already a 2nd year veteran of the school at this time.

A number of things stick in my mind from those early years of teaching. First, the school was
much smaller in those days. What is now the English area was known as Lower School (Years 7
& 8), ruled over by the redoubtable Mr Edwin Turton, who terrified pupils and staff alike.

She’s not kidding, that guy was a monster. He had a northern accent so strong that it was impossible to interpret half the things that he was shouting at you (he was incapable of talking at a normal volume) and every second sentence he said included the word detention.

Over the next few years I was a form tutor in Middle School and worked closely with the very
eccentric Mr Caddick. Although he actually taught Basic Studies and Rural Studies, Arthur’s
real love was writing and directing elaborate school productions, and the end of term usually
involved gathering all of Years 9 and 10 in the dining hall in order to watch highlights of his
latest extravaganza.

I remember helping to build stage sets for this guy, he was a walking whirl wind, impossible to keep up with.

The beginning of term, however, was another matter. I will never forget an
assembly for the start of the new January Term. “I’m not going to wish you a Happy New Year,”
Mr Caddick announced, “because you’re not here to enjoy yourselves.” Assemblies in those days
still involved hymn-singing, and as the increasingly reluctant pupils groaned their way through
another verse he would encourage them with shouts of “Sing, damn you, sing!”

Yep that was him 🙂

A glance at a pupil timetable would show number of different subjects from those studied in
2008. When I had been teaching for a few years there was great excitement at the arrival of the
school’s first computer, a huge thing which printed out ticker-tape and was wheeled around the
building on its own trolley.

And the “Pocket” calculators that we were allowed to use in Physics lessons were bigger and thicker than house bricks.

Videos, meanwhile, were played on an open reel-to-reel machine and
were a rare event. The RS (Religious Studies, though I remember it as RE – Religious Education, at that time) department had only one video, a modern version of the story of
Jesus’ birth set in a bus-shelter, which every class watched at Christmas whether they wanted to
or not!

I hated that film, I blame it for my Atheism.

Latin and Classical Studies were still part of the curriculum, taught by the legendary Mr
Mike Horswell and by the Headmaster, Mr Dalton, who was often to be seen in the black
academic gown which he always wore when teaching or leading assemblies.

Even in the 80s he wore that gown, right up till the day he retired.

Pupils who behaved badly in lessons could be sent to the Headmaster for punishment. Boys were
beaten with a leather strap known as the tawse; while the Senior Mistress, Miss Smallwood,
punished girls with the slipper. ******* was one of the last Education Authorities in England to
use corporal punishment: rumour had it that this was because of the belief that using the tawse
supported the local leather industry!

Unlike in Scotland, boys were tawsed on the bottom rather than the hands. Two girls, who had received CP, both told me that they were offered the option of a slippered bottom or the tawse but on the hands rather than the backside, as the lads had it. All punishments to the bottoms of offenders happened over clothes (no bare bums, sorry). The Tawses used in our school were different to the Scottish ones in being wider and having three tails. They were not dissimilar to the one in the photograph below, except they were black.

In the early 1980s the school started to expand and pupil numbers soon increased to 1,500.
However, in those Thatcherite times there was very little money for education and building new
classrooms was out of the question: instead an ever-growing series of mobile classrooms arrived
over the next few years until a grand total of eleven “T-huts” (T stood for “temporary”)
surrounded the school. They didn’t seem to be very temporary, as the RS department was housed
in T7 and T8, at the back of the Sports Hall, for 15 years. They were bitterly cold in winter,
baking hot in summer, always damp, and infested at various times with silver fish, wasps and
ants: I always told my classes that it was good to have pets. However, our isolated location
meant that, in warm weather, we could move tables and chairs outside and study by the pond; the
downside was having to run into T8 dodging snowballs during the severe winters of the early

Mr Dalton regarded snowballing as good, healthy, youthful, fun and even teachers could be targeted without reproof and a lot would throw snowballs back. Mr Turton tended to stay indoors on snowy days.
Those T huts were hell.

Trips and visits have always played an important part in education, and over the years I have
taken part in visits to places as varied as Cologne and Bonn and Tewkesbury Abbey.

Cologne! Bonn! They never let me go on either of those 😦

The most enjoyable visits, however, have tended to be more spontaneous. In the golden days
before health and safety risk assessments it was possible to simply book the school mini-bus and
head for a day out at the weekend or in a school holiday, taking a small group of pupils into the
Shropshire countryside, to Rhyl or Blackpool, even to a theme park.

The Sixth form Arthurian society trips were legendary. Visiting many pubs near famous Arthurian sites. It just wouldn’t be allowed now (Shame!)

The first one to throw up in the mini bus got to clean it though.

********** School has certainly played a big part in my own lifelong learning: I have made some
very good friends both among staff and pupils, many of whom remain in contact. I met my
partner here back in the mists of time. Pupils are not the only ones who learn new skills from
their school experiences: the young and nervous girl who arrived 29 years ago is now leaving
with the confidence to take on a new adventure. In September I will be teaching 11-13 year-olds
in the International School of ******, but I will continue to follow the progress of **********
School Sports College as, like me, it continues to look for new opportunities and take on new

Well that was looking at it through rose coloured glasses (but it may have improved after I left). I remember it as an underfunded, violent, hell hole, where Council housed criminals of the future could hone their talents and we lost large numbers of the girls to teenage pregnancy by the time we reached the fifth form. Frankly I think that this woman deserves a medal for lasting 29 years there. And also our thanks for turning a blind eye as we did our maths homework during RE (Maths with Mr Turton being the next lesson).

I enjoyed that trip down memory lane 🙂 Hope all you readers did too.